


View from the Top

by Wordsmith_Storyweaver



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 03:13:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3234152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wordsmith_Storyweaver/pseuds/Wordsmith_Storyweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan is a high-powered attorney; Killian Jones is her much-abused personal assistant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	View from the Top

"Seriously, Jones! How many times do I have to tell you before you get it right?! Cinnamon on  _top_  of the whipped cream on my Venti Mocha! It's so easy my eleven year old nephew can remember! But can my presumably fully-functional adult assistant? Apparently not!"

Killian cringes at the high-pitched bitching and wonders again why he puts up with this sort of treatment. He went to Oxford for fuck's sake! But his credentials mean nothing to the woman who for the past six months has made his life a living hell. In the dictionary under ball-buster (and shrew and harpy), he's pretty sure there a picture of Emma R. Swan, Esq. The youngest attorney to  _ever_ make junior partner at Nolan & Blanchard, she's made a reputation as a rainmaker in the courtroom and as a killer of hopes, dreams, and self-esteem among the lower ranks of the firm. Killian knows at least three grown men and countless women in the secretary pool who have been reduced to tears by one of Ms. Swan's tirades. And God forbid, you accidentally say "miss" instead of "miz"!

The entire office is deserted at the moment, except for him and his boss. He was a little leery of taking the position at first—not because of her reputation, but because of how smoking hot she is. Long, lean legs made longer by the custom Louboutin stiletto heels; an hourglass figure, with curves in all the right places; gorgeous blonde hair; bright, intelligent green eyes; and lush, sinful looking lips. However, the second she opened said lips and started ripping into him with a list of commands… She's still undeniably attractive, and Killian  _is_  a man after all. However, a woman who should come with her own warning label is not something he's going to risk.

The computer screen in front of him starts to blur a bit, so he takes off his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes. He rests his elbows on his desk, keeping the heels of his hands pressed hard against his eye sockets. Something between a frustrated sigh and an angry growl comes up out of his throat. He has been working on the changes to one of her multi-million dollar client's lease agreements all day, and it looks like he'll be working on the interminable document again tomorrow. "Excuse me! Earth to Jones! Have you even heard a word I said?! Get your ass in here!"

She continues to grumble while Killian gets up from his desk to go into her office. It's the perfect lair for an ice princess, all glass and steel where possible and white carpeting and upholstery where it isn't. Even her desk is made almost entirely of frosted glass. Miss Swan continues ranting, angrily stacking one file on top of another, but all he can hear is a low whine. The words "useless," "incompetent," "expendable," and "trash" finally seep into his consciousness, forming the final straw.

"Shut the fuck up, you spoiled, selfish bitch!"

Emma freezes at the sight of fierce, furious blue eyes magnified by the silver-frames and lenses of his glasses. Her assistant's hands are clenched in fists at his side, knuckles turning white. She's always been aware of how large, how masculine his hands look for someone who works in an office. Balled up in anger like they are now, they look even less soft and clerical. "E-excuse me?"

His entire body vibrates with contained energy before he stalks over to her and gets in her face. "You heard me. I told you to shut the fuck up, and then I called you a spoiled, selfish bitch, Ms. Swan! Every single day, I slave my ass off and take shit from you. There's no cinnamon on my cocoa, Jones! My water was two degrees off of room temperature, Jones! The hotel you booked didn't use the right laundry detergent, Jones! Well, I'm fucking sick of it! You can take this piece of shit job and shove it up your-!"

He had gotten so close that Emma barely has to move in order to grab his head and start roughly kissing him. She's been obsessing, fantasizing about doing this since the second she saw his lips quirk up into a sexy little grin the day of his interview. Every moment since then has been a battle between being pissed off at him for being the perfect assistant and secretly wanting him. Being in close proximity all the time has only made his highly-fuckable appeal even worse. But seeing him finally reach his breaking point, even if the passionate emotion was anger instead of lust, had just been the final straw.

Killian has no idea where this is coming from and part of his brain is screaming at him to push her away. Instead, one of his hands grabs a fistful of her hair and the other glues itself to her ass. He fights her for control of the kiss, biting down hard on her tongue and forcing her to retreat. She tugs hard on his hair in retaliation, but he doesn't back off or give ground. He invades her mouth, dragging a throaty moan out of her. She rolls her hips and her breasts into his body, rubbing up against him like a cat. He squeezes her ass hard, then grinds up against her, causing her to break the kiss on a gasp. The sound jerks him out of the haze of anger-driven lust, and he places a hand on either of her shoulders to push her away from him.

"What the fuck was that, Ms. Swan?"

"That was me shutting up and doing what I've wanted to do to you since you walked through my door. Every day, from the moment I hired you, I've imagined having every inch of your skin on every square foot of this office." Emma's breathing hard and can't believe she just admitted that out loud. Killian looks absolutely stunned, but she can also see a different fire than antagonism swimming to the surface.

He never expected this, but he's certainly not fool enough to turn it down. Just as brutally fast as a moment ago, he's kissing her, violently consuming her mouth. Her whimpers of pleasure and pain only feed the lust in the air. He's the furthest thing from gentle when he pushes her up against the wall, kicking her legs apart and slipping his knees in between them. When she's trapped just the way he wants her, he sucks hard on her lower lip and pulls his head away from hers. "So this whole time, you've been a royal bitch because you want me to fuck your brains out, right here in your office?"

Killian slides his hand down her breasts and stomach before slipping it up under her skirt. He quickly brushes aside the lace panties, plunging two fingers inside her. Emma whimpers, biting on her lower lip. "Yes. God, yes!" After a few rough pumps, he pulls his hand back, fingers slick with her juices. Making certain she's watching him, he slowly licks her taste off his skin.

"Drop your fucking panties on your chair and lean over your desk." He backs away from her completely, leaving only the wall at her back to help her stay standing. The blonde hair that he's never seen in anything but a tight up-do is now tumbling in sensual curls around her shoulders; her lips are moist and swollen, and for a moment, all he can think about is how gorgeous they'll look wrapped around his cock. White-hot fire rages through his whole body at that image flashing across his brain, making him even harder than he was when he gave her that command. He watches her, waiting to see what she'll do. Obedience is, honestly, the last thing he expects.

No one has ever dared to call Emma Swan out on her bullshit, and no one would ever dream of telling her what to do. But, dear God, if she didn't get even wetter when he ordered her around like that! And she wants him to do it again! Shaking slightly, she pushes away from the wall, glides over to her desk, and slowly strips her panties off before dropping them exactly where she was told. When she bends over, resting her weight on her elbows, her short skirt pulls up high enough that he can see just a hint of the blonde curls between her thighs. In seconds, he's right behind her, gripping her hips and grinding into her.

"Good girl. Keep following the rules, and you may just strike a couple of places in this office off your list tonight." She whimpers when she hears his zipper coming undone. But instead of slamming into her, she feels his hands glancing along her skin. He flicks her skirt up, so her bare ass and thighs are totally exposed; he isn't pressed up against her like before, but she can feel the warmth radiating off of him. The heat of his body, the slight chill in the air from all the glass and steel, and the feather light touches all combine to have her shivering from sensual overload. And every time she tries to lean back into his touch, to rub up against him, he's quick enough to avoid her and keep her wanting. "Say please, Miss Swan."

"Please!"

"Please what, Miss Swan?"

"Please slam your cock inside me and fuck me right now! God, you felt for yourself how hot and tight and wet I am right now. I want you to fuck me hard and make me come, and then I want to rip that sexy three-piece suit off of you and see just how hot your body really is. Please, Jones. Please! Fuck!" Instead of fast and rough, he savors slowly sinking inside her for the first time, balls deep without a problem because her pussy is absolutely dripping for him. But, damn, even ready for him she's so amazingly tight. Taking a mental and physical breath, he pulls out quickly and thrusts back in. She contracts hard around him and cries out. The glass rattles against the steel framework as he starts pounding into her, bruising grip on her hips.

"God, fuck yes, Jones! You feel so fucking huge! Do you have any idea how many times I've gotten off at the end of the night thinking about you fucking me just like you are now?"

Killian grabs her hair and pulls her head back, licking the column of her throat. "You like talking dirty, don't you? You think it's going to get me off faster if you tell me all the naughty things you've wanted me to do to you? Well, if you don't shut that filthy mouth of yours, I just might have to wash your mouth out. With cum. Because I can't think of a sight that would make me fucking hornier than seeing you on your knees with my cock down your throat. If you keep talking like that, I'm going to have to assume that you're a bad girl and need to be punished like that. Is that what you need, Swan?"

His stamina is far from exhausted, but he gets so close to orgasm that his leg muscles twitch and weaken with the strain of holding back. He pulls out and stalks over to her chair, picking up her panties and sitting down. "As usual, I'm doing all the fucking work around here! Strip right now, then get your sweet ass over here and ride me."

Emma fumbles with everything, fingers refusing to work properly under his hot glare. Finally, he can see every inch of her glorious, creamy skin. She practically launches herself into his lap, ruthlessly impaling herself on his still hard cock. Before she can get out more than a curse, he kisses her. Just like before, he absolutely dominates and controls her mouth, consuming all the little whimpers and moans she makes. He wraps a hand over each of her breasts, which had been bouncing delightfully with the force of her movements. She's so hot, wild, and absolutely ready to tumble over the edge, so Killian lets her. A few careful massaging strokes of his fingers and then a tweak to each of her nipples simultaneously has her throwing her head back and screaming his name. It takes everything he has not to go with her; the lady did say she's fantasized about every square foot of this office after all.

* * *

 

Emma and Killian are holding hands when they get out of the elevator, ridiculous grins on both their faces. The security guard nods to them as they stroll past him to the front desk. The receptionist, whose name tag says Tiana, smiles politely when they walk up to the counter. Killian signs the waiting receipt and hands over the key. "Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Swan-Jones. I hope your experience with Erotic Encounters was everything you hoped it would be. You'll find a list of potential adventures and reservation dates available in your registration packet. Enjoy the rest of your stay in Boston!"

In her years as a bail-bonds person left her with a varied and…interesting knowledge of some of the secrets that big cities had to offer. She'd actually done a favor for the owners of . several years ago, which was how she'd discovered the place. Erotic Encounters catered to people who wanted to add a little spice or adventure to their love lives. They specialized in advanced role play—providing clients with complete identities, costuming, and staging. Not that she and Killian needed any help, but a special occasion usually calls for something equally spectacular.

She grabs a hold of the lapels of his black pea coat, pulling his body into hers and kissing him urgently, yet sweetly. "Happy fifth anniversary, Jones."

When she pulls back to look at him, his eyes are still full of heat, but there's also a deep well of love and devotion. "Happy anniversary, lass. How's our little thief doing?"

He chuckles when she smacks his arm and reaches down to rub her barely-there bump. "Would you please stop insisting on that nickname? Our baby will be an upstanding, law-abiding citizen, thank you very much!"

"When they've already managed to steal the hearts of the whole family, love? I sincerely doubt it!" His grin becomes secretive and even more mischievous at the word "steal." Emma glares at him pointedly, knowing that look.

"Out with it, pirate! What did you take, and how much will it cost me to replace it for them?"

"I'm shocked, darling! Really! Don't get your knickers in a—oh, right. You can't can you?" His smile is absolutely wicked when he whips the "handkerchief" from his coat's breast pocket.


End file.
